Nothing Left Unsaid

Chaper 1

Through the years, I have tried and tried to piece together everything that led up to today. But some pieces never fit, never found a place. Pieces of my life that changed me forever,They always seemed to hurt more than the other ones. I wondered how, and why things always never went my way. I have stories I will never share, well until now. I have memories I want to forget, but I know I never will. Someone once told me, "something's happen for a reason" and he lived by that and I did to, until I realized there was no reason for these things that happened, they were just there. They were there in a sense where they follow me everywhere, Like the anxiety feeling when u know the storm is getting closer, the gut wrenching feeling that makes u forget how to breathe. I assume if u have gotten this far you'll read till the end, I don't know where I'll start but i suppose I'll start with my name, I am Evelyn Rose. I was born in May of 1950, I was a rather adventurous child. Pale blue eyes, and beautiful blonde hair, Mother said I always gave the boys a run for their money. I was the youngest out of three. Two older brothers who always fought until they picked on me. I would walk along beside them with my two books and a sack with my lunch (pb&j with cut banana slices inside), my brothers loved to pester me, throw rocks in my hair, push me down on the dirt road, and tell father I was just clumsy. My father was a soft spoken, warm hearted man. He wanted me and my brother to have the world, he worked 70 hours every week at a car dealership. He would leave before I woke up for school, and come home until after my bath. On my 6th birthday he bought me my first doll, a rosy cheeked freckled face short baby doll. My brothers were always jealous of me, and I never quite understood why. My father loved my mother with all his heart, my mother loved him too, or so I thought. My mother cleaned everyday, she would clean the kitchen first, breakfast room second, my room and my brothers room third and her and my father's room last, we barely sat in the living room. Mother always saved the living room for company, if they dare come over. My mother didn't have a job, she stayed home and took care of me and my brothers. She cooked, cleaned, and loved buying groceries from the deli in our little town. Mr. jones always fancied my mother, I remember going to his store with mother and buying some tomatoes for her beef and bean stew. He walked beside her, "helping" her find what she needed, my mother would ask if he had any flower in the back. He would walk around to the other side of the counter, and my mother followed. I sat in my stroller, I was only 4 years old, and waited as my mother and Mr. Jones walked into an empty room. Few minutes later, my mother walked out and soon stumbling out came Mr. Jones, without flower. Mothers hair was a mess, her hand slid across the counter and Mr. Jones handed her green paper, and we left.